


Stay Golden, Ponyboy

by dannyyisme



Category: I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco, Young Veins
Genre: Bottom Dallon, Dallon is an interviewer, Drugs, M/M, Ryan is a celeb, Sex, Smut, Top Ryan Ross
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 05:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15065807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dannyyisme/pseuds/dannyyisme
Summary: Ryan is an infamous singer guilty of sex scandals and drugs; Dallon is an interviewer who tries to find the reason for the singer's behaviour, but instead gets dragged into his hectic life style.





	Stay Golden, Ponyboy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my Wattpad of the same name.

Another line went up his nostril. And another. And another.

He rubbed his nose and continued to sniff and snort to try to get any remaining powder to go with the rest. He felt dizzy, slightly light-headed, but great.

The group of people around him were cheering him on as he did lines of shots mixing inappropriately with the pills and the inhalants. Blood trickled gently down his cupid's bow, but he took no notice of it.

He had his tongue snaking down people's throats, both men and women, and he had fingers up cunts along with fingers wrapped around cocks; he felt no remorse for the virginities he had taken or the STD's he had given.

He was George Ryan Ross the Third, lead singer of The Young Veins.

-

Dallon was mentally preparing himself in the mirror for his next interview. He knew he was lucky to score such an interview with _the_ George Ryan Ross the Third, all things considering Ryan hates getting interviewed, and he really didn't want to fuck up.

Dallon straightened his bow tie and ran his fingers through his slightly askew hair. He grinned at himself and blew a kiss to his mirror. "Lookin' good," He complimented with a light chuckle. "Not that it matters, though." At least, that's what he thought.

When he set out, he got a call from his boyfriend, Brendon. He pressed the 'Answer Call' button and got into his car. "Hey, Bren," He greeted smiling a little. "Why are you up before 12 pm?" The latter's melodic laugh rang through the speakers causing the smile on Dallon's face to grow.

"I got a job interview," His boyfriend replied sounding excited. "It's my first one since high school! I won't have to work at that stupid smoothie place anymore!"

"Aw," Dallon cooed shutting his car door. "I'll miss seeing you in your cute little work outfit." He could practically hear the blush on his boyfriend's face and a small chuckle vibrated in the back of his throat. "Just kidding. I'm proud of you, Bden."

"Thank you, Dalpal," They both burst into a fit of giggles completely losing track of time. Dallon checked the watch on his wrist and his eyes bugged out of his head.

"Holy shit!" He exclaimed quickly putting his key in the ignition. "Sorry, Bren, I have to go! I have to get somewhere in three minutes!"

"I'm sure you'll get there in time!" Brendon tried, but Dallon wasn't having it.

"No," The blue-eyed man responded sounding a little distressed. "Brendon, the place is twenty minutes away!"

"There is no fucking way we were giggling for fucking twenty minutes, Dallon," His boyfriend reasoned with a slight edge to his tone. "Just calm down, okay? Who are you interviewing, anyway?"

"Ryan fucking Ross!" Dallon exclaimed dropping his phone in the passenger seat and turning his keys in the ignition.

-

Ryan was basically spread out on the couch with a cigarette resting snugly between his lips. He wasn't too fond of having to wait for this interviewer--who he was, Ryan didn't know or care; and he felt like time was going a snail's pace. He wished briefly that he had a bump of his coke or any of his pills that could help time go faster, but all his manager allowed him to bring were his cigarettes. He just guessed he'd have to deal with nicotine.

"Hey, sorry I'm late!" A man, roughly around his mid twenties, exclaimed with a thin sheet of sweat on his face signalling he had been running. He was fairly tall, his cocoa brown hair was a mess, as if he had just rolled out of bed, and his eyes were a beautiful shade of icy blue. Ryan smirked at the man and kept his own, intrigued, honey eyes keeping sight of the opposite's. He was interested.

"What kept you?" The singer asked taking a long drag of his cigarette. He watched the interviewer squirm in his seat and smirked as he blew out rings in the other man's direction. "You look like you've just been fucked and you're trying to come down from a high." He marveled in the way the interviewer's face flushed reds and pinks and how he stuttered as he tried to spew excuse after excuse.

"I-it was just m-my boyfriend c-called me about h-his job interview," He rambled almost immediately losing Ryan's attention at the words 'my boyfriend.' The singer almost scoffed at the words, but he knew that he should have known this beautiful specimen of a man had a boyfriend or girlfriend. He seemed like the couple-y, settle down type.

"So you have a boyfriend?" Ryan asked not even caring if he had interrupted the man's ramblings-- someone had to stop him from talking.

"Y-yes, M-Mr. Ross, S-Sir," He stuttered, his face turning an ever deeper shade of ruby. The singer couldn't help but smirk at his effect on this man, he absolutely adored manipulating people's feelings about him and situations. He absolutely cherished his ability to turn the most composed people into mushy messes; it was his forté.

He put his cigarette out on the table next to him leaving a small, burnt hole on the table cloth resting on the wooden table. Ryan takes no heed to it, however, and he puts the cigarette back into his 24 pack that rests in the pockets of his black, suede jacket.

"So," He begins making the interviewer scramble through his cards, "what the fuck did you want to talk to me about?"

"C-can you not swear, please?" The taller man squeaks looking like a complete mess. "This is going on our website a-and-"

"Why the fuck would I care if this is going on your website or not?" The singer retorts tapping rapid rhythms with his fingers onto his leg. He was starting to feel anxious and paranoid from the lack of blow and other drugs in his system. He wished he had his coedine with him to stop the sudden blow of a headache that's making his brain feel like it's throbbing.

"N-never mind!" The interviewer replied causing the singer's headache to worsen. "M-Mitch, are the cameras rolling?" The man behind the camera gives them a thumbs up, then sends a very nervous looking woman onto the set. She tries to attach their mics onto their shirts as quickly as she can, but she slows down whenever she reaches Ryan; anyone with eyes can tell his eyes were focused on her cleavage that was showing from her shirt. When she pulled away from him, she zipped up her jacket obviously looking ashamed and nearly ran out of the room.

"You guys ready?" The guy, Mitch, asked them obviously sounding uneasy.

"Yep!" The interviewer squeaked squirming in his seat. "T-tell us when!"

"We're live," The man said taking a seat. The interviewer plastered on a smile and looked directly into the camera.

"Hello, Summerlin!" He greeted cheerfully, but a little too loud for Ryan's headache. "My name is Dallon Weekes, and I am here with the one, and the only, Ryan Ross from The Young Veins!" Ryan sat up a little and crossed his left leg over his right squeezing his calf so his anxiety and paranoia wasn't as noticeable.

"Hi, how are you?" He forced out putting most of his attention in looking like he actually wants to do the interview. Dallon's smile became more genuine.

"I'm good," He answered with a small laugh. "A bit winded from running up here." He looked through his cards before deciding one to read off first. "First question: 'What got you into music?'" Ryan scoffed and turned his attention to the weird patterns on the wallpaper.

"Eh, something about music as a kid made me happy," He rushed out obviously sounded bored out of his mind. "It was a kid thing and now it's my job; I don't fucking know. Ask me something else." Dallon nervously laughed and quickly rummaged through his cards for a different question.

"N-next question!" He stutters now looking completely uncomfortable. "Th-there have been a lot of scandals surrounding you lately. Would you like to explain?"

"Why do you care?" Ryan suddenly burst out scaring the poor, nervous interviewer. "God, why did I even agree to this?!" He stood up and stormed out ignoring the loud, annoyed yelling of his manager already on the phone with the singer's mother.

-

The lights in the bar were dim; Dallon appreciated that.

He didn't want to go home yet. He had gotten into a fight with Brendon after picking him up from his job interview because he had 'messed up' his interview with Ryan. He scoffed and downed his Dr. Pepper with ice.

"Looks like you're not having a good time," Ryan noted taking the stool next to the sad, tall man. The cocoa haired man tensed up, but kept his composure calm.

"I'm fine," He argued as the bartender topped off his drink. "Thank you." They nodded and continued on cleaning glasses.

The singer scoffed and grabbed Dallon by the jaw forcing them to lock eyes. "Don't you want to have a good time?" He purred letting their lips gently brush against each other. "I want to make it up to you from this morning." A mix of feelings rushed through the taller man's blood and he suddenly felt keen on spending time with the singer, but he then quickly pushed the other man away.

"N-no, I can't d-do that!" The taller man recoiled turning his troubled gaze to his glass. "Brendon would never forgive me for that.." Ryan hooked his finger onto Dallon's jaw and they locked eyes once more.

"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," The singer purred into the interviewer's ear causing shivers to wrack throughout his body, but out of excitement.

-

Ryan crushed up lines of pills and coke with his credit card feeling excitement rush through his veins. He snorted one, two, three lines rubbing the side of his nose with his finger and sniffing as the drugs slowly take effect. "I-I don't know," He heard the man he lured into his bedroom whisper as he kneeled next to the drugged-up singer. "I-I've never done this before.."

"C'mon," Ryan coaxed nudging the final line over towards Dallon. "It's just one long snort, I promise." He offered his rolled-up $100 bill to the taller man, which the latter accepted.

The singer's fingers began to itch out of excitement and he started to get the jitters. He clenched and unclenched his fingers into tight fists and let out shaky breaths. _God_ , did Ryan want to touch Dallon. He wanted to feel his soft, silky looking hair and trace his fingers over the slip of skin just barely showing as the other man was leaned over trying to snort the entire line, but doing a bad job of it. He bit his lip and watched as the line slowly, but surely, disappeared into the other man's nasal passages.

"Ow, fuck!" Dallon swore rubbing his slightly bloody nose. "That fucking hurts.." Ryan chuckled and traced his finger down the other man's slightly stubble-covered jawline.

"It's better the more you do it," He purrs enjoying the little whimpering noise he caused from the taller man. "It also makes sex a fuckload better."

"Too bad that isn't happening for me," Dallon joked with a pained laugh. The singer raised an eyebrow and watched as the man's icy blues slowly glazed over from the high of the drugs.

"It's not, is it?" He basically growled into the other man's ear. He licked up Dallon's earlobe and whispered, his voice an octave lower than usual, "Oh, baby, we're just getting started."

-

The night was a blur in Dallon's mind whenever he came to. He had saliva rushing down his cheeks and a terrible pain in his head, back, hips, inner thighs, and his muscles felt incredibly tired. He tried to roll over, but he froze whenever he felt the skin of another person come into contact with his own; it was a person's arm.

He didn't know what to do.

He felt soft breath tickling on the back of his neck and he started feeling gravely uncomfortable. He slowly tried to untangle the stranger's arm from his bare stomach, but they stirred and made a groaning noise of protest. They tightened their grip and Dallon was completely freaking out now; he didn't know how to escape.

The soft vibrating of his phone on the wooden bedside table causes the anxiety to constrict his chest; he couldn't breathe. The person wrapped around him groaned once more and rolled over freeing Dallon from their hold. He almost immediately scrambled off the bed and picked his phone up seeing there was over twenty missed calls from his boyfriend including five voicemails.

"Fuck, I'm going to be in so much trouble," He muttered clumsily pulling the first pair of pants that he found not even bothering to look for his underwear. He was in dismay whenever the pants seemed to not go past his thighs and he became increasingly aware of how tight the pants feel around his calves. Thinking nothing of it, he forced them up and ignored the claustrophobia starting to bubble up to the surface.

He grabbed his button-up dress shirt slipping his arms into the sleeves feeling more awake than ever, adrenaline pumping heavily through his blood. He quickly grabbed his shoes, stuffed his phone into his pocket, and made a run for the door trying to sound as quiet as he could with being as clumsy as he was.

"Dallon?" He heard a quiet voice ask causing him to freeze; he was so close to the door, his fingertips just barely able to brush over the knob. There was a yawn followed by a chuckle. "You leaving without saying goodbye?" The taller man stood up straight and cautiously turned to the singer, a forced smile on his lips.

"Yeah," He responded scratching his clothed arm out of awkwardness. "I, um.. I have to go. Brendon's wondering about me."

"Oh?" Ryan pouted out his lips in a way that made Dallon's heart melt a little. "I thought we could at least do a couple lines before you left, Dal."

"I can't," The latter responded carding his fingers through his major bedhead. "You know I can't. We can't let any of this happen again. Ever."

"Aw, why not?" The singer stood up revealing his morning wood. Dallon's eyes fluttered down for a glance, but they quickly returned back up to the tired singer's eyes.

"Because I need to be with my boyfriend," He spat out, but there was no heat behind it. "I don't know if you know this, but having a long-term relationship means that you need to spend time together."

"Really?" Ryan questioned taking slow steps toward the taller, icy-eyed man. His gaze was intimidating the latter and he let a small smirk form on his lips. "If that's so, then why were you at the bar last night?" He struck a nerve.

"Th-that's none of your business!" Dallon exclaimed, his icy eyes hardening. "Doing drugs was a one time thing! I'm not doing it again." The singer chuckled.

"That's what I thought too," He replied wrapping his arms around the taller's neck. "Now look at me, Dal." The interviewer pushed the shorter man away harshly and glared hard at the now confused singer.

"I will never be like you," He growled. He then turned tail and left the room leaving behind sweat, semen, a pair of Dr. Who boxers, some blood, and a confused man who planned on having their night happen again. Dallon, however, was wondering on how he could make a satisfactory enough excuse for Brendon to forgive him.

-

Saying Ryan was in trouble with his manager was is an understatement. Or, well, his new manager. The previous one quit from all the stress of having to "try to take control of this fucking demon kid." Not that he was complaining, though. His new manager was hot when he was angry.

"Ryan, are you fucking listening to me?!" His manager exclaims not even phasing the singer already high on four pills of coedine to numb his headache that wasn't really there; just an excuse to get the guy off his back.

"Are you saying anything important?" Ryan questions, his eyes looking close to vacant. This made the manager hesitate and the singer smirked with a low, painful chuckle. "Didn't think so, Beebee." The slightly shorter man scowled and ran his fingers through his messy, chocolate hair.

"Why are you so keen on calling me that?" He questioned rolling his slightly lighter brown eyes. "It's fucking ridiculous. No wonder your previous manager quit."

"She quit because she couldn't handle my lifestyle," Ryan boasted lighting a cigarette. "She couldn't handle all the drugs; she couldn't handle the people I fuck. Unless you figure out really quick on how to handle it, looks like you'll be gone too." Something flickered in his manager's eye. He grabbed the spoiled, drugged-up man by his shirt collar and held him incredibly close to his face.

"Listen, you spoiled brat!" He spat, almost literally. "I am _not_  going to take your bullshit like everyone else! You were a dick to my boyfriend in that goddamn interview; I fucking saw it, so don't even _try_ to defend yourself!" The singer fell silent out of shock, so his manager went on.

"I don't know why Dallon didn't show up at home until the sun rise," He started with his grip wavering a little, but going back to deathly tight, "but I _do_ know _you_  were a big cause of it! He wasn't wearing his pants and they didn't smell like him. They smelled just like you, asshole, so what the fuck was up with that?" The accusation made a smirk pull on Ryan's lips. He remembered his encounter with Dallon at the early hours of the morning and he was surprised at how the taller man was really keen on keeping his word; too bad Ryan has a big mouth.

"Oh, did he?" He questioned innocently with that dirty smirk on his lips that says, 'I know something you don't and there is no fucking way I'm telling you without you doing dirty work for me.' The look angered Brendon to an extreme extent, so he flipped Ryan over and pinned his arms behind his back at an awkward, painful angle.

" _What the fuck did you do to him_?!" Brendon asked as if he were interrogating a vicious criminal. He crossed the singer's arms more causing the bones to pop and crack disgustingly and the other man to cry out in pain. " _Fucking talk! I know you know something!_ " He pulled harder nearly breaking the latter's arms.

"Okay, _okay_!" Ryan cried out feeling tired, sore, and beyond embarrassed. "I-I'll tell you! J-just let me go!"

"And you'll tell the truth?" The manager asked putting a bit more pressure on. The singer's noises became louder and more sorrowing.

"Yes, _yes! I will! Just please let me go!_ " He cried out nearly sobbing from the pain. Brendon seemed to accept this, so he let go of the distressed singer. He watched the latter rub at his elbows and whine about how much he was hurting. When the man decided enough was enough, he grabbed the singer by his collar again, but he flinched.

"Alright, I let you go," The manager spat keeping a tight hold on the singer's shirt. "Now tell me what the fuck you did to my boyfriend?!"

-

Dallon didn't expect the extreme headache he had whenever he woke up from his nap; he felt drained of a majority of his energy. He felt insanely confused whenever he realized he was alone in the bed since it was Saturday, Brendon never worked on Saturdays. He sighed and swung his long legs off the bed deciding that since he was awake, he might as well make something to eat.

He changed out of 'his' pants and into a pair of comfortable, fuzzy pajama pants. Once he was satisfied with his lounging attire, he quietly padded out of his room shivering at the cold, wooden flooring in the halls.

"Guess I'll just have some cereal," He muttered walking over to his grain foods cabinet. "Never too late for breakfast." 

As his cereal of choice, that being Fruit Loops, started to fill the bowl, Dallon relished in the beautiful noise the cereal made as it hit against the porcelain china. He soon realized that he wasn't paying attention to _how much_  cereal he was pouring out of the box whenever Fruit Loops splattered at his bare feet and all over the counter. "Shit," He swore setting the box down carefully. "Oh, dammit, it's everywhere!" He sighed, long and annoyed, and tried to fish the broom out of the nearby supply closet.

"Dal?" He heard a voice call out. He freezed his sweeping and tried to remain still, as if that mattered. In strolled his boyfriend, Brendon, with worry stricken over his eyes. "Dallon, holy shit, I thought you were hurt!" He threw his arms around the frozen, taller man and let out a shaky sigh. When Dallon finally became mobile again, he let out a shaky, unsure laugh.

"You scared me," He admitted turning around to face his boyfriend. He tried to ignore the look of worry and concern on his lovers face and that the feeling of his skin against his own that feels suddenly too intense.

"Dallon, did you do drugs with Ryan?"

-

One line...

Two lines...

The men wiped the blood off of their cupid's bows; they both relished at the feeling of sudden euphoria coursing through their veins.

Broken hearts, two's aplenty.

Ryan's lyrics became silent.

_Don't_ _talk_ _,_ _just_ _listen_ _._

**Author's Note:**

> This was written before HLMIMI, but I just noticed after reading through it again about its similarities. Whoops, haha! ^^


End file.
